


Home is Far Away

by MVforVictory



Category: TREASURE (Korea Band), YG Treasure Box (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Autism Spectrum, Friendship, Gen, Haruto-Centric, Hurt/Comfort, Hyunsuk has an Anxiety Disorder bc that’s what I do to all YG leaders, I just really love Haruto yall, M/M, and I show my love like this, asd, everyone is too young and needs a hug, meltdowns, mention food issues, no beta we die like dumbasses, no smut these are literal children y’all, sensory overloads, thats the purest tag I’ve ever used
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MVforVictory/pseuds/MVforVictory
Summary: With the new year, came many changes. Changes Haruto still hadn’t quite come to accept.Changes that brought hardships and struggles, battles he wasn’t ready to fight.Good thing he didn’t have to do it alone.Or, TREASURE help Haruto navigate ASD and life as an idol.
Relationships: Choi Hyunsuk/Park Jihoon, Watanabe Haruto & Bang Yedam, Watanabe Haruto & Choi Hyunsuk, Watanabe Haruto & Everyone, Watanabe Haruto & Hamada Asahi, Watanabe Haruto & Kanemoto Yoshinori, Watanabe Haruto & Kim Doyoung, Watanabe Haruto & Kim Junghwan, Watanabe Haruto & Kim Junkyu, Watanabe Haruto & Park Jeongwoo, Watanabe Haruto & Park Jihoon, Watanabe Haruto & Takata Mashiho, Watanabe Haruto & Yoon Jaehyuk
Comments: 21
Kudos: 58





	Home is Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I’m dirty YG trash. what can I say  
> (title is bc of the Epik High song)
> 
> took a break from iKON stuff to bust out some NCT fics (please don’t read those if you’re under 18+ dear god) but I’m back on my YG bullshit to present you _this_ shit show. 
> 
> ta da??
> 
> It’s not good but I don’t care. I just really love Haruto okay.
> 
> oh also I did what I wanted with the dorm arrangements to make my life easier so  
> floor one: Jeongwoo/Jaehyuk, Haruto/Junkyu, Hyunsuk, Junghwan  
> floor two: Asahi/Yedam, Mashiho, Jihoon/Doyoung, Yoshi  
> also, I have nothing against Yoonbin, tis merely for the sake of plot

It wasn’t easy—joining YG at such a young age—It was anything _but_ easy, but Haruto hadn’t really expected much else.

Being away from the comfort of his home for as long as he has been was really starting to take a toll on him. Completely immersed in an unfamiliar culture, surrounded by unfamiliar people speaking an unfamiliar language that Haruto was still struggling to learn.

He thought he would have immediately latched onto Asahi, or Yoshinori, or Mashiho. Just, anyone that reminded him of _home,_ but he didn’t. He couldn’t really, not without Kotaro acting as a buffer between him and the others. Kotaro had always been his safe place, as the oldest to Haruto’s youngest of the Japanese trainees, and being without him was an adjustment he never really fully adapted to. 

It was hard connecting with anyone there. Ever since the beginning—only made worse by his name being the first one called, only made worse by his stoic personality, only made worse by his less-than-stellar communication skills. 

Basically, Haruto wasn’t very good at making friends.

—あなたのそばに—

With the new year, came many changes. Changes Haruto still hadn’t quite come to accept.

He was still getting used to saying he’s 16, when he didn’t _feel_ like he was. He didn’t feel like he was old enough to be signing his life away, he didn’t know if what he was doing was even what he wanted. 

His mother had been the deciding factor, the final push. The _initial_ push, really. Haruto was here for her. So he could pay her back for everything she’s done for him. That’s why he was here.

The announcement of Yoonbin’s departure was another change Haruto would never have been able to prepare for. He had no idea it was even coming, Yoonbin hadn’t given any indication. Any hints.

The morning he had found out was a rough one. Haruto had spent a solid hour pacing in tight circles around his room, praying that he could keep himself quiet enough to avoid waking Junkyu up. He felt tense, coiled up in preparation for _something_ to come.

And it did, leaving everyone unsure and their relationships unstable.

When Haruto woke up that morning, chest heavy with the same feeling of _wrongness,_ he couldn’t help but try everything in his power to rid himself of it, so he spent the morning in much the same way as the last time he felt like this—Pacing in tight circles as he squeezed his eyes shut, just like he had been for nearly ten minutes now. 

He had come back later than usual last night, holing himself inside one of the trainee studios to avoid the growing tension back at the dorm, the same tension that has been building since they woke up to Yoonbin’s empty bed and the company’s announcement.

Haruto didn’t blame him for leaving. He couldn’t. It’s been months since they’ve had any clear direction, each week that passed in uncertainty heightened the anxiety that shrouded the team. Hyunsuk has been getting worse lately, it was no longer a shock to see him clutching at his chest, struggling to breathe when the pressure became too much.

Haruto didn’t like seeing that.

So he continued to pace in the small, clear space in the room. _His_ room. It was supposed to be his now, but it didn’t feel like it. Not when Junkyu’s belongings littered the shelves, not when Junkyu’s breathing kept him up on bad nights. Not when everything smelled like Junkyu’s perfumes. Not when the room was bright and noisy, when Haruto only wanted dark and quiet. Where he could crouch in his favorite corner and hum to himself until everything stopped hurting.

The sleeves of his flannel were miraculously long enough for him to curl his fingers around—the shirt so large it hit mid-thigh on him, just above the hem of his shorts. It was his favorite shirt. Cotton was good. 

He could hear Junkyu behind him, humming long and hard as he stretched his body out along the length of his bed. He was going to wake up soon, meaning Haruto should leave before the older boy was awake and trying to cling off of him like he tended to do when Haruto returned late at night.

Junkyu claimed it was because he was extra needy when he didn’t get a good-night kiss, Haruto just thought he was needy all the time.

Before Junkyu even had the chance to open his eyes, Haruto quietly slipped out the door and into the hallway, bare feet padding along the hardwood floors until he found himself pausing in front of another door.

Hyunsuk was his old roommate. Hyunsuk knew what to do when Haruto felt like this. Like he was choking on every sound that echoed around him, hard and heavy and unable to breathe around it. Hyunsuk knew how to help, how to make the breathlessness go away so he could just exist. Quietly. 

He lifted a hand to knock on the door, but as he got closer, he could hear more and more noises coming from inside the room. It sounded like Jihoon. Speaking quietly. To Hyunsuk. He sounded just as breathless as Haruto felt when he responded, words catching in his throat between cries.

Oh. 

Haruto’s hands found their usual place, each gripping the opposite elbow with enough pressure to leave bruises. It helped. It stopped his hands from moving, kept his fingers from shaking, and without thinking, he returned to his pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. Again. Again. Again.

He kept going—until he couldn’t hear Hyunsuk’s breathing anymore, until he couldn’t hear the gentle words Jihoon was whispering to him. Kept going until the _icky_ feeling died down and stopped making him want to scratch his skin off.

There. Okay. Better. He felt better. Not good, but better, and better was good enough.

It didn’t last very long. The second Haruto stepped foot in the kitchen, he came face-to-face with an irritated looking Doyoung. It was only recently that the Seoul-native moved in with them, and each day wore heavier and heavier on his tolerance for bullshit. It was only a matter of time before that overflowed.

Haruto had the feeling today _might_ just be that day.

Doyoung glared at him over his bowl of cereal the entire time Haruto attempted to make toast. He could feel the eyes digging into his back the entire time, and it _really_ didn’t feel good. It made Haruto feel on edge. Scared.

It was when Doyoung scoffed, just as Haruto was struggling to get the toast buttered with hands that didn’t feel like they were part of his body, that Haruto ended up placing everything down on the counter before walking away.

Not good. Not good, not good, not good. He could feel the lid he had kept over everything begin to shift, sensations building and building and building underneath the surface. Haruto _knew_ he only had so much time before it bubbled over.

He was almost back to Hyunsuk’s room when Mashiho bounded down the steps, hair still wet from his shower and eyes narrowed. Just like Doyoung’s were.

Haruto didn’t give it too much thought—couldn’t, really—before pulling Mashiho aside in the entryway. _“Everyone’s being weird,”_ He started, and the Japanese sat so naturally on his tongue, giving him the slight reprieve from the hell that has been learning Korean. _“Is something wrong?”_

 _“Is…Is something wrong?”_ Mashiho repeated, _“I should be asking you that.”_

Haruto didn’t even have the chance to ask what the shorter boy meant before he walked away. He stood there for several seconds, staring down at his shaking hands as he tried to sort through the mess in his head.

He truly didn’t understand what was happening. Why Doyoung and Mashiho had acted so short with him. The tight feeling in his chest that he only knew to mean _something bad is going to happen_ wouldn’t go away.

“Team meeting! Lower dorm!”

It was weird hearing Jihoon’s voice calling them, rather than Hyunsuk’s. It was even weirder seeing Yedam, Asahi, and Yoshinori bound down the steps and past him. Not sparing a single glance at him. 

He followed after. What else could he _do_ but follow?

The living room was packed, Jeongwoo and Jaehyuk heading in from the opposite side, with Junghwan following shortly after. It was weird, seeing them all packed into the room with such a tense atmosphere clouding the room.

And all of that tension—

Was directed at him.

“W-What’s going on, hyung?” Haruto asked, voice low and slow and cautious. His eyes drifted from person to person, but not a single one of his groupmates would look him in the eye. Until he got to Hyunsuk.

“Yoonbin came by last night,” Hyunsuk stated, “To get the last of his stuff. He told us some things.”

Which did nothing to clear up the confusion Haruto felt. His voice felt like it was getting wedged even farther in his throat with each word he managed, “Like—Like what?”

He couldn’t hold the eye-contact with Hyunsuk any longer, his gaze dropping to his hands, watching as his fingers twisted and tangled and pulled one another as a distraction. It didn’t work, but he still continued to fidget because it was all he could do under the scrutinizing looks of his leaders.

“Haruto,” Jihoon _snapped,_ making Haruto’s shoulders rise up in panic as he squeezed his mouth shut, “Stop acting dumb.”

Hyunsuk shot Jihoon a look, one Haruto barely managed to catch as he opened his eyes, confusion evident on his face.

“He said that you were the reason he left.”

Too stunned to even speak, Haruto could only shake his head as he tried to find his voice. He’d never said anything like that to Yoonbin, had barely talked to him in _general_ after the debut lineups for Treasure Box had been announced.

He wouldn’t have done something like that. He _wouldn’t_ have. Haruto may not have talked to Yoonbin much, but he respected him as both an individual and a group mate.

“That’s it?” Jihoon prompted, “You’re not even going to try and explain?”

Haruto opened his mouth, shook his head, closed his mouth. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Didn’t even know what to say. What he _should_ say. His eyebrows furrowed and he tried harder, imagining the words forming on his tongue but they _wouldn’t._ Without thinking, his hands started flying through whatever signs they could, barely registering what it even was that he was forming.

He was pretty sure Yoshinori knew something, at least _enough_ to understand what Haruto was trying to say. He needed Yoshi to understand. Haruto didn’t know how else he could tell them that he _didn’t do it_ without Yoshi understanding.

Was Yoshinori even looking at him? Haruto didn’t know. Didn’t know if he could even lift his head to see. His neck felt stiff, his entire body felt stiff. Like it would shatter if he shook too hard. He might. That might happen.

He’s gone this long without having a full meltdown in front of anyone—At least, not any one of the members here, the trainees that made it. Kotaro was the last and only person to see him like that, and Haruto fully planned to keep it that way.

So when that’s what he felt happening, Haruto did the one thing he knew.

He panicked—And he ran.

Without even sparing a glance at any of the others—not when he could still feel their eyes on him, their glares—he exited the room as fast as he possibly could. He didn’t know what to do. The only thing running through his head was _get out._

He was through the room, almost past the kitchen but didn’t quite make it before a hand latched around his wrist and halted him. The touch _burned._ The touch burned and Haruto didn’t want it. He didn’t want the hand on him. It burned. His skin burned.

“Haruto!” 

He ignored Jihoon, he didn’t want Jihoon’s hand on him because it burned. Haruto tried ripping his hand away but it didn’t work the first time, or the second, or the third. His shoulder was starting to hurt, but he couldn’t stop—kept going until he was able to rip his arm from Jihoon’s grasp because it _burnedburnedburned._

He managed, but only just enough to throw himself under the counter in their kitchen before his ears started ringing, too loud, too much to keep going. Haruto curled up, pressing his palms over his ears and his forehead against his knees.

Everything hurt.

The single fluorescent light that hung in their kitchen that flickered from time to time seemed so much worse. The lights were too bright on, too bright and burned his eyes and burned his skin just like Jihoon’s touch did.

Flicker. Flicker. Flicker. Haruto pulled back to scratch at his wrist, letting his nails dig several long trenches in his skin before curling them back over his head to find purchase at the nape of his neck. The light continued to flicker. Haruto curled up tighter.

He couldn’t drown out the hissed words and frantic noises booming around the room, not even with his arms pressed as snuggly against his ears as possible, not even with the harsh pants of his breathing filling the cramped space he managed to shove himself into.

Haruto wanted to drown the voices out.

He started humming, rocking slightly to keep his rhythm. He wanted to forget how many people were crammed in this room, how many voices were bouncing off the walls, how many shadows dancing around him. Rock forward—breathe in. Rock backward—breathe out. Forward. Backward. Forward. Backward. In. Out. In. Out. In—

Someone’s shoes squeaked against the floor as they couched too close to him, far too close for him to be comfortable as he flinched away, knocking his head against the wood of the cabinets. He felt unbalanced, wrong, so he hit his fist against the right side of his head to fix it. To make it go away, but it didn’t, so he made sure to hit even harder the second time. 

“Wha—Ruto-hyung, don’t do that,” Junghwan quietly pleaded, reaching forward to take Haruto’s hand in his own, in an attempt to stop the older boy from pummeling it against his temple a third time. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Junghwan’s touch wasn’t nearly as bad as Jihoon’s, his grip nowhere near as tight, but Haruto couldn’t help but try to shake his arm out of the youngest’s grasp. He didn’t want to lift his head to look at Junghwan, not when he could hear his hiss of pain when Haruto’s flailing arm must have made contact with his chest.

Haruto didn’t want the ringing in his ears, or the burning tingle running under his skin. He didn’t want anyone touching him or looking at him or talking to him. He didn’t want any of it. He didn’t want it. Didn’t want it. Didn’t want—

“Haruto-hyung,” Junghwan tried to grab his arm again to stop the hitting, “Please don’t do that. Please—”

Haruto hummed louder, curled up tighter, pushing Junghwan away with any part of his body he could. A hand connected with his ankle, Haruto trying to kick the hand off again and again and _again_ before his head connected with the cabinet, even harder than the first time, sending a white flash of light behind his eyes and causing the ringing in his ears to almost deafen him.

It felt like the world was shaking around him. It made the rocking hurt more than it helped and that felt _bad._ It was bad. It felt bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. 

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t match the inhales with the forward rocks and the exhales when he rocked back. He just wanted to be able to rock back and forth and back and forth and back, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t but he wanted to so he could breathe, not be as useless as he was in his current state.

Shaking and screaming and kicking and crying and scratching at his arms until he could feel the blood caking underneath his nails because it wasn’t enough for the ringing in his head to stop. Haruto just wanted it to stop, he wanted it to _stop._

It wouldn’t stop, it was never going to stop. It was never going to end. He could hear his wheezy breaths echoing, could feel each hot exhale against his bare legs as he curled up tighter. Every word, every sound, every smell—they were all too much, nauseatingly overpowering as they thrummed around in his head.

Haruto just wanted it to stop.

Exhausted, and unable to even kick away from Junghwan’s hand falling on his ankle once more, Haruto let out a heedy whine as he dropped his head against the wood, panting. The cool surface felt good against his temple, but the rest of his body was numb, tingly. Electricity scrambling under his skin. He wished he could scratch it out.

He just wanted to sleep. To sleep and let all the bad feelings fizzle out. Haruto just wanted to sleep. He just wanted to sleep.

“Haru?”

He whined again as the fingers brushed along his leg. They didn’t…didn’t burn anymore, but Haruto could still feel the goosebumps prickle along skin that felt too tight on his bones. His head was lost in the same cloud he had surrendered his voice to, and he didn’t have the energy to search for it.

Junghwan had managed to sit himself as close to Haruto as he could without crowding him, even as he kept a light hand on the Japanese boy’s ankle, letting his thumb stroke over the smooth skin. He could feel Haruto’s breathing beginning to slow, calming enough that Junghwan could hear the humming again.

This time, this time the humming wasn’t panicked, frantic. This time, the humming was low, slow, and following the silent tempo Haruto could feel Junghwan kneading just above the sharp bones of his ankle.

He felt—He felt _heavy._ Weighted. Like there was an oppressive force lying over his body, and each second that passed added more and more pressure. He didn’t know if he could continue carrying that weight with him.

Junghwan scooted forward, close enough that he was able to lay a hand on Haruto’s back, holding his breath as he waited for the older boy to flinch away, but the flinch never came.

“Hyung?” Junghwan whispered, slowly working his way closer and closer until he was able to drape his arm across Haruto’s shoulders, looking smaller than ever curled up as he was. “I’m—I’m gonna pick you up now, okay?” 

Haruto didn’t answer, Haruto couldn’t answer, only curled up tighter the second Junghwan’s breath was close enough to ghost over the shell of his ear. He wanted to go _home._

He wanted his mom. He wanted his dad. He wanted his room that smelled like _him_ and not Junkyu’s perfumes. He wanted his corner where he could hide himself away with a blanket and his DS to distract him from Airi’s screaming in the next room over. He wanted to listen to his podcasts without fear of someone seeing him excitedly flapping his hands because his favorite channel released a new video.

Junghwan waited another few seconds before moving again—but each flicker of the light felt like another hour to Haruto—holding his breath each time the older boy so much as shifted a hair away from him.

He could easily pick Haruto up, but trying to find the angle he could actually manage to lift him, dead-weight, off the ground was going to be the challenge, but Haruto made no move to resist as Junghwan’s other arm slid under his knees.

Backing up from under the counter was also a precarious endeavor, but Junghwan was able to just barely manage without slamming Haruto’s head against the cabinet yet another time. Haruto’s fingers tangled into the front of Junghwan’s hoodie, pulling the fabric to cover as much of his face as he could manage.

Junghwan, holding onto Haruto as tight as he could without strangling him, glared at every single other person in the kitchen until he was allowed to pass through.

Jihoon was the first, and only, person to attempt to say something, “Junghwan, wait—”

Haruto physically recoiled at the sound of the second-eldest’s voice, making Junghwan turn his glare specifically at him as he shouldered out of the room. No one tried to follow, and he was, for once, immensely grateful for that. 

He was also immensely grateful for his possession of a single room, something very coveted when you share a dorm with eleven other people, but Junghwan’s insomnia tended to act up when made to share a room. Leaving him with one of the lucky singles.

“Haru-hyung?” Junghwan quietly addressed the boy in his arms, “I’m gonna put you down, okay? So I can get the door.”

Haruto didn’t respond, but Junghwan didn’t really expect him to.

As carefully as possible, Junghwan leaned forward to set Haruto down in the center of his bed, the sheets still messy from when he had gotten up that morning, before moving away to close the door.

By the time he turned back around, Haruto managed to curl himself under the covers, scooted as close to the wall as he could physically be and curled up smaller than Junghwan could ever remember seeing him.

Junghwan might have been amongst the youngest of the trainees, but he had been there for long enough to gain respect from even those older than him. He was a trainee for years longer than even some of the people in the group with him.

He was no stranger to being the youngest in a group, just like he was no stranger to looking out for others, Junghwan liked to believe he’s found himself in a good balance of the two.

Whatever happened out there, whatever happened between Yoonbin and Haruto, Junghwan didn’t know. Junghwan had a feeling he wasn’t going to know until whatever mess the others had made could be cleared up.

Junghwan couldn’t help but press closer to Haruto—just a bit, just enough to feel the heat bleeding off his back—the moment he thought about the others and what had happened.

Haruto shivered as the youngest’s breath ghosted against the nape of his neck. He felt like he was freezing, all of a sudden. Every muscle in his body was back to being so tensed up, it physically hurt. Haruto didn’t know how to explain to Junghwan that every breath of air tickling his neck caused the muscles in his stomach to ache even more, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but want to have Junghwan’s arms around him. Maybe he could stop Haruto from feeling like he was constantly about to shake out of his skin.

He hated the feeling. Hated it. Hated feeling like there were ants crawling under his clothing, all over his body. Covering his body. He hated it. Wished he could burn them all off, find a way to rid himself of them forever.

Nothing he tried worked. Haruto stopped trying.

He was still only wearing his shorts and flannel—his feet were beginning to go numb, stomach cramping from how tightly wound up he was. Everything was back to hurting again, the buzzing under his skin creeping higher and higher under he could feel it sitting in his throat.

Unable to take it anymore—Haruto tried to ignore the crawling along his skin but just couldn’t—his nails started scratching lines over the backs of his wrists, repeating over and over and over until he felt the stinging of the air against the fresh wounds.

“Haru,” Junghwan muttered, lifting the covers up to see what Haruto had been doing, his wrists the same angry red as his flannel sleeves were, “Please, stop doing that…”

Haruto shook his head, scratching even more frantically at his skin, fingers reaching as far under the cuffs of his sleeve as he could manage. He wanted the itchy to go away, hated the feeling of Junghwan’s sheets brushing his legs. They weren’t even all that different from his own, but they weren’t _his_ and that was enough to make them _wrong._

“Ahhh, hyung,” Junghwan’s arm hooked over his waist in an attempt to stop the scratching, making Haruto shriek as their hands touched, trying to force the younger away from him by any means necessary, even going as far as to shove an elbow into his sternum, _“Aish—Stop.”_

Both of his arms ended up wrapped around Haruto’s middle, locking the Japanese boy’s own arms against his chest as he thrashed in Junghwan’s hold.

“Haru, Haru, Haru, please. Stop, stop, Haruto. Shhhhhhh,” Junghwan attempted to quiet him down, “It’s okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I can’t let go if you’re gonna keep hurting yourself.”

His words managed to shock Haruto into moving. If he stopped, then Junghwan was going to let go.

But—

He almost didn’t want Junghwan to let go. 

Slowly, Haruto managed to turn himself in the maknae’s hold, whining the second the arms loosened around him because that was the _opposite_ of what he wanted to happen. 

He wanted Junghwan to keep holding him. Keep that secure feeling. Haruto needed it. Needed the arms holding him together and stop him from falling apart, layer by layer, piece by piece.

More out of surprise than anything, Junghwan stilled as he held his breath, letting Haruto wiggle around beside him to find a comfortable position—which ended up being curled into Junghwan’s side with his forehead pressed against the dancer’s chest.

“This is okay?”

Haruto nodded his head, just slightly, just enough for Junghwan to feel it against his shirt. He pursed his lips, pressing his arms tighter around the rapper as he breathed a sigh of relief.

“What happened, hyung?” Junghwan murmured, no longer feeling the need to drop honorifics, now that Haruto seemed more present than before. 

This time shaking his head, Haruto pushed his forehead harder against Junghwan, letting the youngest’s collarbones dig into his temple as he tried to center himself. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t think he _could_ talk about it.

“Please, I’m trying to understand, but nobody’s told me anything.”

Which meant Junghwan still probably knew more than Haruto did. He seemed to be the only one that wasn’t filled in on what happened. The only one not worth telling, because they all thought he was at fault.

Junghwan’s arms loosened around him, Haruto whined again, “What did Hyunsuk-hyung mean when he said you were the reason Yoonbin left?” Junghwan asked, Haruto couldn’t tell if he was upset or angry, “That’s not okay, hyung, if it’s true.”

Was he angry? Was he upset? Was Junghwan going to yell at him just like Hyunsuk and Jihoon had? He couldn’t take Junghwan being angry with him too. Couldn’t be alone again.

“Woah, woah, woah. Haru—” Junghwan attempted to still Haruto again after he began shaking his head in panic, unwilling to stop the frantic movement because he needed Junghwan to _understand_ but he wasn’t and Haruto didn’t know what he could do. What he could say.

“I—” Haruto barely managed to get the word out before his jaw clicked shut, the Korean sitting heavy on his tongue and clogging his throat. Too much, too soon. Haruto couldn’t take it.

He was back to frantically signing, hands flying through the motions that Junghwan could ever hope to keep up, even if he _did_ know what the fuck Haruto was trying to say.

_Please. Please. Please._

“Should I get one of the others? I’m gonna get one of the others, I’m gonna go get Junkyu-hyung,” Junghwan rambled, trying to separate himself from Haruto when he couldn’t get him to calm down, “S-Stay here, okay? It’s gonna be okay, I’ll be—I’ll be right back.”

And then he was gone.

Haruto was alone in a room that wasn’t his, wrapped in sheets that felt _wrong;_ because he blamed Haruto, just like everyone else did. Just like everyone else.

He ripped himself from the sheets, unable to stand the feeling of them scratching against his legs and nearly slamming into the ground as he scrambled forward. He pulled open one of Junghwan’s closet doors, desperate to hide away from the prying eyes he could feel all over him, skin prickling from the feeling as he wedged himself as far back as he could manage.

Closets were good. Closets were safe. Nothing overwhelming. Just him and his rocking where no one could touch him.

Closets were safe until the door opened and light flooded into the room, making Haruto curl up even tighter, despite the protests of his aching joints, as his hands came up to press against his ears in an attempt to block out the noise.

It didn’t work. At least, not enough. Not enough for Haruto because he still could hear someone’s exasperated sigh, followed by the grumble of, “Jesus, not this again.”

Asahi. It was Asahi. It was Asahi that walked out just after another grumble that still managed to find its way to Haruto’s ears, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe again.

“Just leave the spaz alone.”

He was back to signing, back to frantically spelling out anything and everything he could think of in the hopes that someone, _anyone,_ would understand.

_Did not say. Did not do. Please._

“That,” Junghwan points out, “He kept doing that but I couldn’t understand it.”

Yoshinori—Thank _god,_ it was Yoshi—moved forward to pull Haruto out, but Junghwan managed to stop him just before Haruto could even think to kick at him. The older Japanese boy stayed back, “Haruto? Can you try signing that again?”

Haruto shook his head once, twice, not wanting to uncurl from his corner and show himself to the boys once again crowded around him. He gave a quiet whine before quickly fumbling through the motions again, only to press his hands back against his ears to continue humming, rocking rocking rocking because the motion was soothing and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears if he stopped again.

“He kept repeating ‘no,’” Yoshi offered, “Said he didn’t say it, probably talking about the thing with Yoonbin? But I don’t know how to—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Junkyu pushed his way to the front, “Everyone, out. We’re not going to bring this up until sometime later, preferably not today because I’m sick of hearing your ‘what-if’s and ‘okay-but’s because you’re so quick to believe Yoonbin over Haruto, when _nobody_ has any idea what even happened. So, Hyunsuk- _hyung,_ you and Jihoon are going to go and see what the hell Yoonbin was getting at, and I’m going to stay with Haru and make sure you two haven’t fucking traumatized him,” the singer fumed, looking at the small group in front of him with his hands balled at his sides.

Yoshi had been merely a bystander in this, and Junghwan knew the anger wasn’t directed at him, but he couldn’t help the recoil at the heat in Junkyu’s words that was aimed at the two leaders.

The way Hyunsuk’s breath caught was audible in the room, Jihoon’s hand immediately shooting out to wrap around the eldest’s smaller one, keeping the trembling fingers locked with his as he led them out of the room.

Yoshinori followed with one last sad gaze toward the closet, but Junghwan gathered him into a quick hug before walking them out the door after, leaving Junkyu with Haruto in full faith of their hyung’s capabilities.

Left alone in the maknae’s room, Junkyu slowly shifted to sit at the edge of the closest, reaching up to push a few shirts out of the way to get a better view, “Haru? Do you want hyung to stay here, baby? Or d’you want me to give you a bit of space?”

Haruto gave the tiniest, barely even visible, nod—just enough movement for Junkyu to understand.

“Okay, Ru, I can do that. We still have practice today, so the dorm is gonna be empty for a little bit, but me and Hwannie are only a text away, okay? I’ll see you in a bit, bub.”

And so, with a heavy heart, Junkyu stood from his perch, seated next to the curled up rapper to quietly slink out the door.

Leaving Haruto alone. Always alone.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, leave me a comment and kudos if you didn’t hate it, and leave a comment anyway to tell me if you _did_ hate it. 
> 
> follow me on Twitter [@MVforVictory](https://twitter.com/MVforVictory) I cry about Hanbin a lot idk man what am I doing
> 
> also, sorry to leave this here on chapter 1 lol


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